The air in the crematorium was thick, smelling of ozone and the suffocating perfume of lilies

to question them.

Marcus reached toward his coat pocket.

I knew that gesture. He always carried something he thought made him untouchable.

But my phone was already in my hand.

“Don’t bother,” I said.

His fingers froze.

“I’ve been recording since I walked in. Audio, video, everything. It’s live-streaming to my lawyer’s secure server.”

Helena stared at me as continue reading …